


it's my birthday (and i'll get what i want)

by agaave



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, D/s, Established Relationship, Illustrations, Light Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, also shoutout to mason for drawing these horny fucks, apparently this reads horrendously on mobile oops, cecil just gets indulged for a couple pages that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:47:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23488561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agaave/pseuds/agaave
Summary: It's Cecil's fucking birthday.
Relationships: Yia-Yia/Cecil (original characters)
Kudos: 4





	it's my birthday (and i'll get what i want)

“You know,” Cecil says in between heated kisses, “I thought - birthdays were about getting what you _want.”_

They stumble into his apartment, Cecil shoving the door shut with one hand as he pushes Yia-Yia up against the wall. Yia-Yia laughs against his mouth, attractively pliant under his hands. It’s the first time that Cecil’s been allowed to touch him all day, and he’s making the most of it now that he finally has it, hands wandering over Yia-Yia’s chest, his arms, his ass.

“Birthdays are about getting _spoiled,”_ Yia-Yia corrects, tugging on the buttons of his shirt. He latches onto his throat to suck a dark mark into Cecil’s skin as he palms Cecil shamelessly through his pants, and Cecil temporarily forgets his train of thought.

“What’s,” he manages, after a second, “the difference?”

He makes a startled sound as Yia-Yia grabs his shirt, yanking Cecil down to his height. Yia-Yia’s lips brush his ear, his voice low and unyielding.

“The difference is that you aren’t deciding _shit_ tonight,” he purrs. “I’m calling the shots, and all you get to do is say _thank you.”_

Cecil swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. “Sounds good.”

Not relinquishing his hold on Cecil’s shirt, Yia-Yia heads for the bedroom, and Cecil has no choice but to follow, tugged along on the makeshift lead. He’s only released once they step in through the door, Yia-Yia pulling him in for another kiss before pushing him back. Cecil’s knees hit the edge of the bed, and he sits. Abruptly.

“Clothes off,” Yia-Yia says, taking a half-step back. Still close enough to touch, but his eyes are daring Cecil to do anything but what he’s told. Cecil’s never stripped so quickly. Yia-Yia watches lazily, seemingly unaffected except for the dark gleam in his eyes.

“On your knees.”

“You -”

_"Kneel.”_

He kneels. Yia-Yia stands over him, fully, untouchably clothed.

"Close your eyes."

Cecil nods jerkily, trying and failing to ignore the heat curling in his stomach at that. His head falls forward as he obeys. He can hear Yia-Yia move around the room and wishes desperately that he's allowed to see what they're doing. A drawer opens, closes. Cecil starts a little as cool leather touches his skin, a blindfold slipped over his eyes. Yia-Yia brings a hand to rest on the top of his head, carding through his hair before his fingers lock in it, pulling his face up.

“Good boy,” he says, and Cecil swallows hard. The hand drops, under his chin, his thumb brushing Cecil’s bottom lip.

“Open your mouth.” Cecil obliges, his tongue swiping across the pad of Yia-Yia’s thumb as it pushes past his lips. He sucks obediently, eagerly. Yia-Yia swears, withdrawing after a minute. His head lifts as he hears Yia-Yia yank down his zipper, and opens his mouth to take the first few inches of Yia-Yia’s cock.

“Show me what you’re good for,” Yia-Yia says, like a caress, and Cecil needs no further urging.

He tongues the tip, head bobbing shallowly over the end. Yia-Yia pulls at his hair, encouraging him to take it all in. Cecil gags a little when it hits the back of his throat, but he doesn’t dare stop. The only thing that matters now is Yia-Yia’s pleasure. He feels a thrill of satisfaction as Yia-Yia gasps, thrusting shallowly into his mouth, and dares to lift his hands, settling them on Yia-Yia’s hips as he lets himself be used. A ragged moan is all the warning he gets before the other man comes, hot pulses down Cecil’s throat. He swallows it all, panting for breath, and Yia-Yia strokes his hair again, pushing it away from his forehead.

“Can I -” he starts, voice husky, and is overridden.

“I want you on the bed.”

He pulls Cecil to his feet and guides him, pushing him onto his back on the bed. One hand pins both of Cecil’s wrists up above his head, into the pillows. “Stay there.”

_“Yes.”_

Yia-Yia hums at his compliance, fastening his wrists together before tying them to the headboard. Cecil’s muscles flex as he tugs experimentally, and there’s no give, the tie snug almost to the point of pain. The bed shifts under Yia-Yia’s weight, his hands lightly skimming Cecil’s chest as he presses a light kiss under his jaw. His mouth leaves a steady trail of kisses down Cecil’s throat, only pausing in his ministrations every once in a while to nip a dark, possessive mark onto his skin. Every touch seems amplified, Cecil’s world confined to the heat of Yia-Yia’s breath on him. He swallows a moan, hips rocking up, and Yia-Yia makes a dissatisfied noise in response. His hand comes up to none too gently grab Cecil’s face.

“No.”

Cecil doesn’t protest, just nods, a shaky exhale leaving him as Yia-Yia returns to his work, kissing down his chest, the flat planes of his stomach. He nips at the sensitive skin at the join of Cecil’s hip, and Cecil has to fight hard to stay still, the arrested action coming out as a moan instead. His neglected cock aches, fingernails digging into his palms as he resists the urge to cant his hips up, looking for any friction. Yia-Yia hums, pushes Cecil’s legs apart to kiss his inner thigh, gentle at first before he sinks his teeth into the skin, flicking his tongue soothingly over the imprint left behind. He mirrors it on Cecil’s other thigh, then makes another mark, higher up. A third. A fourth. 

_"Yia-Yia,”_ Cecil groans, tugging at the tie.

“Mm. What?”

“Please,” he says, and gasps when Yia-Yia brushes a thumb over one of the marks on his hip.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Touch me, _please.”_

Yia-Yia’s hand closes around his dick, but he doesn’t move, thumb pressing against the slit and the drop of precome gathered there. A whine builds in Cecil’s throat, but _he’s not allowed to move._

“Not like that,” he rasps.

“How, then?”

"I need - your hands, your mouth - anything - I need to -”

 _“_ _Need_ to?” Yia-Yia murmurs, their free hand sliding up his thigh. “Whore.”

The word sends a full-body shudder through Cecil, his back arching off the bed.

“Tell me what you are, love.”

“A - A whore,” Cecil pants, straining against the tie, “I’m just a whore, _fuck -”_

Yia-Yia shifts, straddling Cecil and leaning forward to capture his mouth in a hard kiss. He reaches further, fumbling in the drawer for a moment before Cecil hears the soft pop of a cap coming off.

“I think,” Yia-Yia murmurs, “you should wear it.”

Something slides across Cecil’s chest in deliberate, slow strokes, and he doesn’t have to guess what it is Yia-Yia’s writing. Another shudder runs through him at the realization, a low laugh rumbling from Yia-Yia in response.

_Whore._

“There we go,” he says, observing his handiwork. He sits back, feels the hardness of Cecil’s dick up against his ass, the tiny motions of his hips as he tries to stay still.

“Yia-Yia, _please.”_

He deliberates over it for a long, aching minute.

“I’m going to use you to get off,” Yia-Yia says finally, one hand planted on Cecil’s stomach. “I don’t care about what you want. You don’t come until I do.”

Cecil nods fervently, and Yia-Yia stands, stripping off the last of his clothes. A few seconds later, he settles in Cecil’s lap again, a quiet hiss escaping him as he uses a slicked finger to start preparing himself. Unable to see what he’s doing, all Cecil has are the quiet sounds Yia-Yia makes, the heat of their thighs bracketing him as his only anchor. Impatient as he is, Yia-Yia doesn’t take long before he gives in, sinking down onto Cecil in one long, torturously slow movement. Cecil groans, hips attempting to rock up and unable to, pinned by Yia-Yia’s weight. Yia-Yia grinds his hips down, one fluid movement, settling into a rhythm with his hands braced on Cecil’s chest, smearing the writing. Cecil wants to touch him, grab his hips and fuck into him, but he’s helpless to do anything but take it, his world narrowed down to the heat of Yia-Yia around him, the nails digging into his skin.

“Fuck, I’m close -”

Yia-Yia clenches down hard on Cecil as he comes, streaking his stomach with it. It’s too much, Cecil’s been too close for too long, a choked cry tearing free from his throat. He yanks hard enough on the tie that the headboard creaks from the effort, muscles taut as the aftershocks of his orgasm ripple through him. They stay like that for a minute, panting, before Yia-Yia has the presence of mind to reach up, slipping off the blindfold as he kisses Cecil softly. His hands work at the tie, letting him go. Cecil groans as his muscles make their displeasure known, a steady burn flaring up in his arms.

Yia-Yia frowns at the red marks on his wrist, bringing them to his lips to kiss them soothingly.

“You should have told me it was too tight,” he says, “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Like I couldn’t have just torn it off if I wanted to,” Cecil says, and pulls him in for another kiss. “Stop worrying. It was good. Really good.”

Yia-Yia smiles, presses his forehead to Cecil’s. “Happy birthday.”

**Author's Note:**

> My good buddy Mason made the illustrations for our boys! You can find his tumblr [here!](https://johndoeyes.tumblr.com/)


End file.
